


RED

by TremblingHandsWriting



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Twitter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TremblingHandsWriting/pseuds/TremblingHandsWriting
Summary: Junmyeon fights. Yifan is a dumbdumb. (No, but like, in an adorable way.)
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	RED

**Author's Note:**

> Written while I was on flu medication so pardon the grammertikel errer. English ain't my first language yada yada shits.
> 
> Enjoy.

Getting a slap across the face isn't an unusual thing for Yifan, usually by the ladies he's trying to woo almost every night outside the premise. Donning his blond wig sprayed with a little too much chemical that it's a bit too hard to look natural, wearing his flashy velvet suits with colours that usually defies the chemistry it should have with the shirt inside, he would be on guard at the entrance with a couple of newbies putting on their best flirtatious smiles and trying to attract some lonely girl's attention. 

Oh yeah, Yifan gets slapped _a lot,_ to the point that he thinks he had developed a very thick skin on his cheeks from the physical abuses. Though honestly, it's not like they really hurt or anything. 

'A good host should be able to take at least this much pain as a challenge!' He had said once, after being slapped twice on his left cheek and a half can of beer being poured on the front of his velvet suit (he wore a dark green one that night; he then decided that green is his unlucky colour). 

The newbies he trained for that night looked at him sympathetically, but Yifan doesn't really care about what they think of him. His only aim is to train them until they're able to stand on their own, and if they think this is pathetic and they'd rather be somewhere else (and they usually left almost always) then Yifan figured there's no use sugar coating the shits for them.

What Yifan is trying to say is, he's been at this position for almost 5 years now, and the boss is going to let him serve inside of the club any time soon. Sure, some juniors that he trained had already been in the ranks for a while now, _but but but_ that's because they're crazily talented, okay? Effortlessly charming and the girls want them around or something like that (but the girls like him too, of course. Especially the waiters from the neighbouring ramyun shop; they really enjoy talking to him after their shifts are over.).

*

But tonight was different. Yifan admits that he might've been too reckless tonight with choosing his potential clients. He's been eyeing this one black-haired lady with huge eyes and pouty lips donning a blue minidress, looking a little bit out of place as she walked past the front of the club. Yifan had gently touched her by the shoulder to get her attention, and she had turned to look at him with a smile.

She was lovely, and Yifan thought this should be an easy target. He didn't see the three huge men following close behind her as he grabbed her hand to lead her inside (they couldn't even get past through the door) when he felt someone pulled him by the back of his collar.

'Where do you think you're going with our young miss, bastard?' And Yifan had felt his guts dropping to his knees. A punch arrived on his left cheek instead of the usual slap, and he un-heroically fell to the ground. Kicks after kicks stomped his stomach, and he could hear the girl screaming for the men to stop or she'd tell on them to 'Grandpa' but the men refused to stop.

He was tasting blood inside his mouth when he saw the huge man who was kicking him the hardest went flying to the side. A pair of worn-out Nike suddenly appeared before his eyes, and he had looked up with swollen eyes to barely catch a glimpse of his potential saviour.

He saw a man with a red apron tied to his waist standing with his back towards him, facing the three huge men. He could barely see it from his position on the ground but he's pretty sure the man was wearing a white towel on his head, and in his left hand was a huge, long wooden ladle. He smelled traces of spices from the man as well.

 _'Junmyeon oppa!'_ Someone had shouted; Yifan recognised that voice as one of the waiters who always gave him extra eggs and sometimes meatballs whenever he visited the ramyun shop. He heard 'Junmyeon oppa' ordered the girl and her friend to help Yifan up and away from the place, and Yifan felt his long body dragged away.

He did turn around for a few seconds though, trying to get another glimpse at his saviour. But all he could see was red as the said saviour threw the apron that was on his waist earlier to cover Yifan's head.

'Tend to his head wound first,' he had heard him say in a soft, nasally voice, and everything pretty much went black after that.

*

Yifan opens his eyes, and stares at the ceiling.

The single fluorescent lamp lights up the small room, and he registers it as a bedroom that he's definitely unfamiliar with (but the same trace of spices are everywhere, as if enveloping the entire small space). Slowly and with a painful groan, he sits up, holding his pulsing head.

'Slowly, slowly.' Someone tells him, and he feels a strong arm wrapping around his shoulders from behind. To his right, the warmth of someone's body spreads like wildfire on his skin. Yifan abruptly turns to the side and his inquisitive eyes are caught by a pair of curious ones.

'You...do you remember what happened?' The man asks, and Yifan recalls receiving more than just a slap for tonight. He nods, and if only he wasn't in any pain, he would've felt the way his cheeks warm up with red blotches.

'Yeah...that was embarrassing. But thanks. For saving me.' He says, politely and quietly, and that response itself earns a soft gasp from the man next to him (who seems to forget about his arm behind Yifan's back and personal boundaries but whatever).

'Uhm. It's alright. And uh...actually I'm the one who should apologise to you.' He says, finally letting Yifan go and scratches his own chin that looks a bit messy with the thin stubble that seems like it grew overnight. 

'Why?'

'I think I got you fired... _somehow_. Well, your boss said something about laying your hands on the granddaughter of the guy who owns this place was the last straw and...he doesn't need a magnet for troubles…' he explains apologetically and Yifan takes a deep breath before letting out a sigh. And then he softly smiles, and that earns another gasp from the man.

'Expected of him. It's not your fault, you know? Ahhh...but it's a pity though...I almost got promoted to in-house service…' he playfully whines, noticing how the man next to him flinches at his words.

'Sorry…' he apologises again; his head goes even lower this time and Yifan feels a bit sorry as well. Despite feeling the awkwardness rising up in his throat, he reaches out his hand and softly pats the guy's hair.

 _'Junmyeon oppa,_ if you're this sorry, you might as well feed me some ramyun.'

'Eh?'

'I'm kinda hungry right now.'

*

Yifan guessed it right; they were on the second floor of the neighbouring ramyun shop. It's already 3 in the morning though, so the shop had closed for the night and they're the only two people left on the premise, so Junmyeon said he'd cook him the ramyun he wanted as an apology. 

'Stop saying you're sorry. I told you it's not your fault,' he scolds as he watches Junmyeon's back muscles move beautifully underneath the dim yellow lighting of the kitchen behind the bar he's sitting at, looking like an art underneath the thin white t-shirt he has on.

'But in one way or another...I made you lost you j--'

'They're just looking for a way to ditch me anyway. I mean, I've been working with them for five years now but I'm still just a lackey. I guess they just don't like the way I look…' he mumbles, and only by then he realises that he's still wearing his blond wig all this time. Not sure whether he's laughing at his own forgetfulness or the pain on his head, he takes the wig off and lets his shoulder-length hair loose. It is quite damp with sweat and he is a bit worried if it's going to smell, but in the end he just thinks _'fuck it'_ and flips them to the back of his head.

Junmyeon suddenly turns around and stares. 

'...You should have just gone with your real hair.' He comments with a smile and sets the bowl of steaming ramyun in front of Yifan. It's a mouthwatering view and Yifan wastes no time at all at digging in.

'I'd like that too, but the manager told me my real hair makes me look geeky so he gave me this blond wig...ah, I guess I have to return this before I leave,' he pets the wig almost lovingly and continues slurping on the noodles. 

'You're leaving?'

'I mean, _duh!_ I can only live in the dorm so long as I work there. Hey, _Junmyeon oppa,_ do you think I can have a second serving?' He pleads, lifting the bowl to the front of his face and tries his best puppy face on Junmyeon. 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes but still takes the bowl away for another round of ramyun.

*

'Ah I was right! Man...they could've put the boxes down nicely...my favourite coffee mugs are all smashed now, these bastards!' Yifan pouts as he rummages through his things that are scattered in the middle of the dirty pedestrian walk. Junmyeon is just standing next to him in silence, watching as he picks up the few pairs of now dirty velvet suits, probably quietly questioning Yifan's definition of 'fashion'.

'Found it!' He exclaims as he pulls out a brown envelope from the front pocket of a purple velvet suit, but frowns as soon as he opens it. Only a couple of coins fall down into his huge palms, and Junmyeon can see the heartbreaking stare he gives to them.

'Geez...they sure are fast huh, those bastards...my 6-month worth of savings…' he sighs as he puts the coins into his pocket and proceeds to look around for anything important. He doesn't see the confused look on Junmyeon's face.

'Aren't you mad? They stole your money.' He asks, trying to see how Yifan reacts to his question. Yifan turns around to face him, and then looks up to the sky for a moment, thinking hard.

'But...you can never have enough money, though? I can always save them up again later if I work hard enough,' he replies almost nonchalantly, and ignores Junmyeon's stare on his back. 

_'You're so stupid…'_ Junmyeon mumbles as he watches Yifan picks up a few more coins he found near his broken coffee mugs with such a delightful face.

*

'...Where are you going to live after this?' Junmyeon asks him as he hands Yifan a warm can of milk coffee. Yifan sets his velvet suits -- the only stuff he took from the pile -- on his thighs before he receives the drink with a graceful bow. The railing by the sidewalk they're sitting on is more than freezing but it's better than just sitting down directly on the wet pavement. 

'I don't know yet. Maybe I'll crash at a friend's house for a few days before I start looking for a job again. Or I can just call up those rich aunties who offered me to come live with them whenever I feel like it... _wh-what?'_ He stutters as Junmyeon suddenly grabs the hand in which he's holding the can in and pulls him closer towards him. 

Close enough to the point that he feels uncomfortable counting the lashes on Junmyeon's eyelids. 

_'Junmyeon oppa?_ You're kinda scaring me right now...hahaha...ha…' he tries to laugh it off, but that only makes this whole situation sounds even more awkward. 

_'I'll pay you_. I-I mean...I'll hire you...for my shop. Only if you're okay with it...that is…'

'Huh?' Yifan breathes out, confused, and Junmyeon clears his throat. Yifan can see his cheeks are turning red right now underneath the lamp street they're standing under, and he feels kinda silly for all this while he's been thinking that Junmyeon's face is only red because he's been working with hot soup and dumplings all the time.

Also, this just in but this ramyun shop owner is kind of cute.

'We're kinda short on staffing lately, and as you know most of my kitchen staff are girls. So, uhm, having another guy to help with the cleaning and stuff...might be beneficial--' he explains (is trying to) and just somehow realises that he's been holding onto Yifan's hand for a tad too long.

'Only if you're okay with it! Of course…' he finishes, and Yifan is dying inside trying to hold himself from pinching this guy's reddening cheeks.

'So...I'll be paid?'

'Obviously.'

'Free breakfast, lunch and dinner?'

'Lunch and dinner only, since we're open at 12PM.'

'Fair enough. What about accommodation?' He asks again, and Junmyeon purses his lips. Oh God Yifan just wants to squeeze him.

'Uhm...I don't have a budget for that yet, but if you're okay with it, you can live with me...until we get you a cheap apartment or something…' he offers, and Yifan nods in understanding. 

'Sure.' He agrees, and Junmyeon looks dumbfounded. 

_'What?'_

'Sure, why not? A new job, free meals and I get to live in a proper house. Ah, but I'm quite fussy with organising stuff though. Are you a neat person?' He asks, and Junmyeon looks like he's been thrown into an impromptu interview. 

'Ah...umm...not really...I'm kinda messy...but I'm not dirty!'

'Yeah, yeah...everybody says that on first meetings. Let's go home then, _Junmyeon oppa,'_ he says teasingly and wraps his long arm around Junmyeon's neck.

Junmyeon seems like he's trying to say something else but Yifan doesn't really feel like listening to it anyway. He's had a long night.

'Wait, do you even know my name, _Junmyeon oppa?'_ He suddenly remembers to ask and Junmyeon slowly nods his head.

' _Kris…'_

'Oh geez don't use that name with me I'm not a host anymore. _Yifan;_ try calling me that.' He mouths it very carefully, as if Junmyeon could say a two-syllable name wrong.

'Yifan…?'

'There you go! Sounds more fitting of a ramyun shop worker, doesn't it?'

*

The ramyun shop should have been affected by Junmyeon's fight with the underlings, but a month has gone by without any incident. Maybe the girl threw in a few words about who's right or wrong; maybe they just don't want to cross with Junmyeon after seeing him fight. Yifan doesn't really ponder upon it.

'Yifan oppa! Can you put up the sign in front, please? Boss said it's time to put out the new menu today!' The petit girl's voice who helped carry Yifan into the shop that night rings from the back of the shop to the front, and Yifan is still amazed at her pitch every time she yells an order to the kitchen.

Obediently, Yifan brings the wooden sign to the front of the shop and sets it next to the entrance. He stands there for a few seconds, admiring the handwritten sign made with colourful chalks and nods approvingly. 

Yifan doesn't really know the big words to explain his personality, but he does know how to enjoy whatever job he's working. He knows that he will have to have a goal, like how he was with the host club for five years. He wanted to be a fulltime host, but apparently his efforts didn't get him to his goal.

So now, with Junmyeon, he has a new goal. Well, _two goals,_ to be exact.

The first one is to make Junmyeon's ramyun known throughout the country. _A long way to go,_ he admits, _but not an impossibility._

After all, the taste is worthy of the fame he thinks it deserves. 

'Yifan? We're opening in 10 minutes,' Junmyeon suddenly appears by the entrance, watching him as he stands in front of the sign, lost in his own thoughts. 

'Okay. I'm coming, _Junmyeon oppa!'_ He teases, and playfully links his arm with Junmyeon's before pulling the boss inside. Junmyeon's face turns bright red at his action but he doesn't even try to stop him.

 _His second goal?_ Maybe he'll let Junmyeon know one day that his teases are not just teases. 

But for now, he'll just enjoy the red cheeks and shy smile that Junmyeon only lets him see from time to time.

**End.**

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I asked my Twitter mutuals to give me a colour and I'll write a shortfic based on it. I think I had like 5 replies to this so I'll have 5 fics written for this.
> 
> Each title is the colour chosen by a mutual.


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